Talk to Me
by Undirected Passions
Summary: Hardison talks to Parker about his parents in an attempt to get her to open up about her brother's death. One-shot. Set during The Future Job.


There were certain things that the team didn't talk about; unspoken rules regarding the taboo. Eliot's government days was one, Nate's son another, and as Hardison soon realized so was Parker's brother.

When they returned to find Parker crying alone in Nate's apartment the rest of the crew had collectively sworn to take revenge on Dalton Rand. And that had been the end of that. They'd all gone their separate ways, scattered throughout the apartment to plan the con and left Parker alone to sulk.

There had been no comforting words excluding a few from Nate who had let Parker be when the thief requested it. Now Nate, Tara, and Eliot all seemed focused on the con; consumed with their plan for revenge on the fraudulent psychic.

Hardison knew their intentions were good, but he also knew that revenge wouldn't help Parker as much as they though. Rand hadn't killed her brother; he'd merely exploited his pain for his act. And as much as they all hated him for that, destroying Dalton wouldn't push back the memories he'd dug up. They couldn't undo the pain he caused. Hardison was the only one who seemed to be aware of this fact and it bothered him. It bothered him that the rest of the crew all went along with their plans without trying to help Parker directly.

With the knowledge that he might fail miserably, Hardison started up the stairs to talk to Parker. He'd have to find her first which he knew wouldn't be an easy task. The hacker peered into every one of the apartment's numerous rooms. It was only when he came up empty that Hardison realized that to find someone like Parker he'd have to do more than just glance around.

He made his rounds again, starting with Nate's bedroom. Hardison searched the corners, the closet, and in a last ditch effort, under the bed.

"Parker?" He swore he could make out a figure under there.

A blonde head poked out. She didn't seem to by crying, but Parker's eyes were still red and puffy. "Yeah?" she replied, as though hiding under the bed was an everyday

occurrence for her. Which, it could have been.

Hardison sat down across from her on the floor. "What're you doing under there?" he asked.

Parker shrugged as best she could in such a small space. "Nothing."

"Good, then you have time to talk to me," Hardison reasoned.

"No I don't," Parker countered stonily.

Hardison looked down at her gently, nearly leveling his face to hers. "Come on, Parker."

"No," she insisted.

Hardison sighed, knowing he wouldn't get anywhere arguing with her. "At least come out from under there," he entreated.

Parker obliged after a moment's hesitation. She shook the dust from her hair before plopping onto the edge of the bed.

Hardison joined her. "You're not going to talk to me are you?" he realized.

Parker shook her head, but kept her gaze on the floor.

"How about I talk to you then?" Hardison suggested.

"What about?" Parker asked, glancing up at him.

Hardison paused, remembering advice that Sophie had given him- that the best way to get someone to open up was to first offer a piece of oneself. "My parents," he said finally.

Parker frowned thoughtfully. "Okay," she decided.

Hardison took a deep breath. It had been decades since he'd talked about his parents and he was anxious about how the conversation would proceed. "My mama- well, my mama died when I born," he began hesitantly, "something called eclampsia."

Parker looked down at her hands. "It wasn't your fault," she said quietly, figuring that was what he wanted to hear.

"Oh, I know. My granma thought it was, crazy old bat, but I never listened to her," Hardison continued and Parker noticed the faraway look in his eyes. "Dad didn't either. Even though he missed her, even though he had to raise me by himself, even though he had to work two jobs to support us."

His story only seemed to make Parker bitter. "You're trying to tell me that my parents don't blame me for Nick's death," she assumed coldly. "Well they do, and they didn't hesitate to tell me that."

Hardison couldn't imagine the kind of person who'd tell a kid that. The revelation caused his stomach to tighten angrily, but he knew the fact that Parker had shared it was progress. "That's not my point," he countered, trying to keep the conversation going, "You have to let me finish.

Parker replied irritably, "Fine."

Hardison gave her a little thankful smile before continuing. "My dad died when I was seven. There was an accident at his construction site; a shipment of materials crushed him."

"And you got revenge on his company?" Parker suggested.

"Woman, would you stop guessing and let me finish?"

Parker motioned zipping her lips.

Hardison shook his head slightly, attempting to get his focus back on his story and not how cute she was.

"It was their fault," Hardison explained, "It wasn't anyone's fault. Dad was tired from working so much; he fell asleep on the job." It surprised him how easy it was to talk about such a topic with Parker. "My point is," he continued, "I could blame myself for my mama's death. I could blame my dad's death of my mama's death. And both of their deaths could be blamed by me just bein' alive."

"It's-" Parker started.

Hardison held up a finger to stop her. "Or I could make their deaths mean something by actually living my life," he went on, "and that's a choice you have to make."

Parker didn't say anything. She didn't even look at him.

Hardison got up off the bed and started towards the door, respecting her right to privacy now that he'd said what he wanted to say.

"Hardison," Parker called out, her voice slightly strained.

Hardison stopped. "Yeah?"

"It's my turn to talk."

**|L|E|V|E|R|A|G|E|**

Ugh. I spent a lot of time on this, but I really don't like how it turned out. I'm posting this in hope that it's not as bad as I think it is. .

I hope you enjoy this at least a little bit, and please review,

UP


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